


One Day at a Time

by caityjay



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Iron Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alcoholics Anonymous, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Recovery, References to Addiction, there's like one line that implies Tony has a thing for Steve but it's real subtle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-01 00:35:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2753069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caityjay/pseuds/caityjay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After trying and failing so many times he's lost count, Tony gets up and tries again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Day at a Time

**Author's Note:**

> So last year (2013), I was working in an outpatient recovery center and I really came to appreciate the side of Tony's character that struggles with addiction. I think it's a shame that we don't get to see any of that journey in the cinematic universe, especially since it's been so well-handled many times over the decades in the comics. I wrote this as a way to address Tony's alcoholism in the cinematic universe, and to give that version of him a fair shot at sobriety. 
> 
> I feel like I should note that I am what my friends in recovery like to call a "normie" (not an addict), that I've never attended any 12-Step meetings (including Al-Anon), and that all of my experience with alcoholism and addiction is as an affected friend/family member. That said, I did work at a rehab facility for a year, so those familiar with the program will certainly recognize some clips and phrases in this piece :) If you are in recovery and notice anything glaringly stupid, please do let me know!

Tony’s head was pounding, which was confusing, since he hadn't had a drink in over a month ( _one day at a time_ ) and therefore had no right to be hungover.

“Gugh,” he grumbled, rolling over on the bed he’d flopped onto barely hours earlier when his body had finally demanded sleep after nearly 72-hours of continuous work, fully-clothed and width-wise. He plucked at the edge of the down comforter and rolled until he was wrapped in it like a cocktail sausage in a crescent roll.

“Jarvis,” he groaned, “why am I hungover?”

“The main contributing factor of a hangover is dehydration, sir,” his AI replied, the volume blissfully soft. Good boy, buddy. “Were I to make an educated guess, I would say that consuming little but coffee over the past three days has left you severely dehydrated.”

As if by magic (but really by science—really awesome science—), chilled, filtered water began streaming into a glass at the bar across the room. Not that Tony saw it from his cocoon on the bed, but he heard the crystal tinkling and felt the sudden need to pee.

“Damnit,” he huffed, kicking and flailing his way out of his nest. “Coffee’s water. If I’m so dehydrated, why do I have to pee?”

“Caffeine is a diuretic, sir,” Jarvis replied, level as ever. “It increases urine production, thus reducing the overall amount of liquid in your system.”

“I know what a diuretic is,” Tony snarked back, finally staggering to his feet and stumbling over to the bathroom.

“Yes, sir.”

And that was just one of the many, many wonderful things about Jarvis. No matter what abuse Tony threw at him, the AI just took it in stride. He’d give the guy a raise if he were actually on payroll.

“Yeah, yeah, okay, I know, ‘Take better care of yourself, Tony,’ I know,” he grumbled, fumbling at the fly of his jeans and eventually just yanking them all the way off and kicking them violently across the floor.

Once he’d taken care of business, he ran cold water in the sink and splashed his face, leaning his forearms on the marble counter and hanging his head between his shoulders. He wanted to drink. And he didn't want water.

But the bar he shuffled over to in his stinking t-shirt and boxer briefs was empty for a reason. The bare shelves with their mirrored surfaces tugged at Tony. They looked lonely, and he longed to fill them again with the dark and crystal bottles he’d smashed so triumphantly into the dumpster mere weeks ago. But the tall glass sweating onto the protective surface of the mahogany bar contained nothing but pure, filtered H2O

Tony glared at the glass for another moment before snatching it up and downing the whole thing in one go.

“Guh,” he leaned against the bar, grunting as the liquid hit his empty stomach and sloshed uncomfortably.

“Might I suggest you join Dr. Banner in the common kitchen?” Jarvis said pleasantly. “It is—surprisingly—actually morning, and Dr. Banner is preparing breakfast.”

Tony thought, staring at the empty glass he still clutched in his hand. “Where’s Steve?” Another thing he loved about Jarvis: he never felt the need to beat around the bush.

“Captain Rogers and Agent Romanov are in the common area as well. This is fairly customary for eight a.m. on a Saturday, in fact, if you’d like for me to add it to your calendar.”

“Ugh, no,” Tony grunted, abandoning the barren bar in favor of his closet. “Well, actually, sure, put it on there, but don’t set an alert or anything, some people have better things to be doing at eight a.m. on a Saturday.”

He pulled on a clean pair of jeans and swapped his grungy  t-shirt with a slightly-less-grungy one, resolved to join the resident early birds in their crack-of-dawn ritual. He wasn’t about to admit it—even to himself—but he could use the company.

He smelled bacon as soon as the elevator opened onto the common floor, and immediately realized that he was starving. Bruce was at the range, stirring a pan of eggs and hash browns.

Steve looked up from where he and Natasha had their heads bent over a newspaper (an actual, paper newspaper, Tony hadn't known they even got actual, paper newspapers at the tower anymore).

“Tony,” Steve managed to keep the surprise in his voice polite. “Good morning.”

Natasha’s eyes flicked up for a moment, but her expression didn't so much as flicker as she returned her attention to the sudoku puzzle.

“Good morning,” Bruce echoed with his trademark lazy smile. “You joining us for breakfast? I can crack a few more eggs in here.”

Tony blinked. “Uh, yeah. Yes. Protein, that’s good for you. Sure. Thanks.” He was too busy staring at the coffee pot and deciding if that was a good idea to notice the three pairs of raised eyebrows and Steve’s surprised little smile.

“And, uh, good morning, too,” Tony remembered, tearing himself away from the coffee pot in favor of the refrigerator. Orange juice, that sounded good. Nice and… hydrating.

Bruce cracked three more eggs into the giant skillet he had going as Tony sat at the table across from Steve and Natasha with a giant glass of orange juice, peering upside down at the crossword Steve was working on.

“Monkees, 36-across,” he said, taking a few big gulps of his juice.

Steve’s brow furrowed. “Doesn't fit with ‘relic’.”

“Two ‘e’s,” Tony explained. “They’re a band from the ‘60s.”

Steve nodded thoughtfully and filled in the spaces. Tony glanced up and caught Natasha staring at him. Her gaze flicked to his juice and back, eyebrow raised.

“What?”

“Who are you and what have you done with Tony Stark?”

Tony missed both Steve and Bruce’s secret little smiles as he defended himself.

“I’m supposed to be doing healthier things, okay? It’s a thing. I’m doing it. Nothing wrong with being healthy.”

“Of course not,” the assassin allowed, “it’s just extremely out of character.”

“She has a point, Tony,” Bruce spoke up over the sizzling of delicious-smelling food. “I’m happy to enable healthier habits, but I think we’re all curious what might have moved you to pursue them.”

Tony let his gaze rest on the crossword puzzle as Bruce started portioning food onto plates. Why the sudden change? Because he’d been killing himself for nearly thirty years. Because his body had long ago re-trained itself to accept alcohol as its preferred source of energy to the point of malnutrition. Because he was tired of being powerless over his own body.

He might have taken a bit too long deciding how to answer. His instinctive response was to defend and deflect. But he’d put his foot down and made the decision to do this. And if his years in and out of AA had taught him anything, it was that he couldn’t do it alone.

These people were more than just his teammates, more than people he shared his roof with. Over the past year, they had become his friends. And outside of Rhodey and Pepper (whom he hadn’t spoken to since the Great Booze Purge, and probably deserved a phone call), they were all he had in the way of a support network. And if he couldn’t be honest with them, then he was doing a crap job of admitting his shortcomings.

“I stopped drinking,” he said, apparently addressing the newspaper. “Again. I want to do it right this time.”

The room was silent for a moment.

“That’s great, Tony,” he looked up in time to see Steve’s smile this time.

“We’re here for you, you know,” Bruce set a plate piled with eggs and bacon and potatoes in front of him. “If you need anything.”

Tony blinked down at the food and cleared his throat. “Yeah. Thanks. Thanks, Bruce.”

“Let me know if we need to add an extra gallon of OJ to the grocery list, okay?” Steve’s eyes sparked with uncontained mirth that made Tony glare and pull his giant glass to his chest protectively.

“It is delicious and refreshing,” he argued defensively.

Steve let out a laugh as he and Natasha set aside the newspaper in favor of breakfast.  Bruce took a seat beside Tony.

“Better make it two gallons, and put one in the fridge in the workshop, got that, Jarvis?”

“Certainly, sir.”

Tony confidently chugged the remaining half of his juice, sighing loudly with satisfaction. “It’s a virgin screwdriver.”

Natasha snorted into her eggs, smirking. Bruce shook his head.

“That sounds so wrong in so many ways,” Steve said, holding back a laugh. Tony grinned across the table at him. As he dug into his eggs and bacon, he took a moment to thank whatever higher power he was crediting this week that he had people who supported him. That he had friends.


End file.
